


Amnesie Affection

by energybend



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/energybend/pseuds/energybend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two charms believe they're the last ones they'll love, but are troubled with the psychological obstacles that get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amnesie Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salma and Zaynah](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Salma+and+Zaynah).



> This story is based on real, living people. However, any resemblance to the events in the story is purely coincidental. Although I had hoped not. 
> 
> I hope this inspires your [Salma and Zaynah's] engagement already.

am•ne•sia  
a loss or lack of memory - amnesiac, n. - amnesie. adj.

It was 11:30 a.m. No sign of Salma waking up.  
Pasta odors filled the air. _Bolognese spaghetti_. It was Christmas, Zaynah prepared the foods for her loved one with anticipation, waiting for Salma in desperation. Patience turned into impatience. She went to her room and forcefully tried to wake her up.

Zaynah looked as her amber eyes sprang open and she smiled.   
"I'm sorry to wake you up, sweetie, but-" Zaynah commenced but was quickly interrupted.  
"Who are you?" Salma demanded while standing.   
"Where am I?" Her voice sounded rough and raspy, her hair was messy. Zaynah was once trying the pasta to see if it was enough salt and now she was dealing with a totally abashed girlfriend; she frowned in confusion. "Salma, stop it with the jokes. The Mac and-" It seemed as if all of Zaynah's statements were incomplete.

"Who's... Salma?"

It could have been a joke, a tease. But Zaynah felt the honesty and curiosity of Salma's constant demands. Confused as ever Zaynah widened her eyes and got closer to her. "Do you really not remember me?" Zaynah sat down aside her in bed. "I don't know who I am." Salma stated in a saddened expression. Then she fainted back into her bed, in deep slumber.

_Salma, wake up_ , Zaynah thought. She shook her. No sign again.   
What should she do? Zaynah placed her hand on her forehead and it was filled with sweat. She thought she knew everything of Salma. Full of anxiety she rushed and called Miguel. Sometimes best friends know better than girlfriends. She dialed, shaking in fear.  
"Miguel?" Zaynah brushed her bangs to the side and began to bite her nails.   
"Yeah? Is it Zaynah?" Miguel recognized her childish, as she referred to it, British accent.  
Zaynah then tells him everything. About Salma not remembering not just Zaynah but her own self, about her passing out.   
"I... That has never happened with Salma and I, I don't know, Zaynah-" His nervousness expressed in his tone. Zaynah didn't want to hear him anymore. Useless. She violently hung up and left Miguel in _Zaynah_.   
She began to tear up as she beheld Salma's unconsciousness. The Spaghettiwere ready. She thought of bringing them to her. (Maybe it'll trigger something; they had eaten this meal for so long). And so she sat as the boiling hot cheesy pasta odor was the room's scent.

(10 minutes. 30 minutes. 1 hour). No sign of Salma waking up. The smell died. Taking a deep breath she called an ambulance because it was too much. Told them everything and they said they'd arrive soon.   
She heard the siren and saw two men come with a bed to take her. Zaynah reluctantly let her go.

Paramedics took her, slowly put her on a bed. Examinations, tests, all sorts of check-up's. Visits were suddenly allowed and Zaynah waited no longer, arrived, wrote her name, opened the door and saw Salma laying down sweetly, as if sleeping. "Still unconscious," The Doctors admit.

But there's one thing that they say. They say she's been whispering the name Zaynah repeatedly and incessantly.

Zaynah could've enjoyed hearing that. Zaynah could've rejoiced in happiness, excited that Salma remembered, at least her name, at least something. Hope for recover! Fantastic, wasn't it?

But it wasn't. Zaynah felt a warm tear strolling down her cheek as the Doctors delivered the incomplete verdict. It made her sad, melancholic, undone.

"But she'll get better," Zaynah looked straight into the tall man's eyes.   
"That I cannot assure." The Doctors all leave.

Zaynah carefully approached the bed and sat beside her, waiting to hear her name whispered in a rough, American accent. "Remember when I said I could listen to your voice all day?" Zaynah smirked and sighed. Zaynah thought of caressing her face, passing her hand down her thick chestnut hair. She thought of how it resembled hers, except Salma's were rougher and longer. Zaynah's were fine and short. "Do you remember our first date?" Asking _Do you remember_ questions made Zaynah's suffering worse but she couldn't resist to bring back such lively memories.

Their first date, Zaynah remembered fondly. It was back in Zaynah's dad's restaurant, and they talked until their throats felt sore. They felt incredible when they found each other.

"Or when I'd cook you pasta and we'd cuddle while watching _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_?" Zaynah's voice cracked more as she brought more past events. Her eyes got more watery.

But one thing was for sure, Salma hated that program. She would say it was ridiculous and pointless, and would only watch it for Zaynah's cravings, which were always more important, as she'd say.

Zaynah commenced to kiss her cheek with precaution. Her lips pressed over her warm, tender skin. She moved over to kiss her on the lips. A momentary and swift kiss delivered in a cure for her agony. Zaynah remembered the varieties of the kisses they shared. Ones were violent and angry, much French in them, others sweet and soft, and others lied in between the two.

"This can even sound funny, but I thought you were actually going to wake up when I did that to you." Zaynah laughed.

Moments passed and Zaynah couldn't look at Salma again so she decided to look at the window. The hospital was near the Big Ben and she saw the clock tick by as she waited and stomped her foot in an adequate tempo. She thought of how it followed like a metronome.

And it brought her back to another Salma story.

Salma loved to learn new things, and that brought her to the piano. But distractions always got in the way. How sweet the sound of the keyboard's metronome, she'd say as she played Old Macdonald with a few mistakes here and there. Zaynah loved listening even if she could have learned it ten times faster. Patience was abundant in their relationship.

"Old Macdonald had a farm," Zaynah voiced in a soft voice.   
"Ee-ah-ee-ah-oh!" Her voice gradually got louder.   
Salma forcefully woke up as fast as she'd passed out. Her hair all messed and her expression pale. Zaynah was indifferent and listless but as sad as ever.   
"Who are you? Where am I?" She began with the endless questions.   
"Why am I at a hospital? Are you a nurse?" Salma said as she clearly saw the unusual apparel Zaynah wore, indicating that she isn't a nurse; but the situation's logic wasn't exactly in her favor anyway.   
"Is this mom's doing?" It's like she was revitalized with demands.  
"You're awake." Zaynah sat in tranquility. She stood up and with a sigh she strolled up onto her.   
"Oh, my Salma," Zaynah's hand was now melancholically put on her face.   
Salma looked straight into her eyes. She frowned and felt the pain in Zaynah's words.   
"Salma..." She murmured her name.   
"I... Salma... I don't know who you are." She felt tears on her eyes and she nervously bit her lip. But she felt a true connection with the lady she said she didn't know. But one thing she knew now that she'd forgotten before, her name is Salma.  
"I'm Zaynah," She grinned, the tears rolled down her face, landing on her shoulder's shirt. The bed creaked every time Salma did a significant move.  
"Zaynah." Salma stopped at the word as she had stopped reiterating it many times before. She felt refreshed as the word hit her back. _Zaynah_ , Zaynah.   
"But I... I know you, Zaynah." She was unsure of her statements.  
"How can I forget you?" Suddenly she felt more bewildered than when she demanded her identity back in her bed at home with Zaynah in front of her.  
"How could I ever forget you?" More tears splashed down her bouncy cheeks. She had then put her hand on Zaynah's face. Salma cracked a weak smile shaking in a mixture of relief and pain.

Because, really, how could she forget someone so awesomely important, so indispensable and necessary? Zaynah, the girl she put above her own self, the girl she'd die for, the girl she loved. How could she just _forget_?

She'd taken so long to remember, and truly, this made her inevitably angry and confused; what if it's because maybe their bond wasn't too real or strong, what if it's because their love manifestations are an illusion, a fantasy?

(This wasn't important now. This wasn't important now).

Salma leaned for a sweet kiss that gradually increased in motion and intensity. It began soft and tender, just their lips meeting and pressing and proceeded to be strong and rough and angry, everything involved, _as if trying to cure their anxieties with their tongues._  


End file.
